The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 241

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest 241**

**Chapter 241**

**Gemma’s POV**

As I step back into Angela’s ward, the atmosphere thickens with tension. Nurses and doctors swarm around, their expressions a mixture of disapproval and concern. Reyna is slumped against the bed, her frame appearing small and fragile, while Angela clings to her like a lifeline.

A cold laugh escapes me, sharp and bitter. “What’s this? A little gathering? Do you really believe that if enough people rally around you, your guilt will simply vanish? Mistress and her homewrecker mother… what a delightful duo.”

The nurses stiffen, their eyes flickering nervously between us, caught in the crossfire of my disdain.

“Miss, please,” one of them steps forward, her voice trembling with caution. “The patient has just undergone surgery. She shouldn’t be agitated—”

I cut her off, my sneer dripping with contempt. “And what if she does get agitated? If she were to die right here, right now, it would be the highlight of my day!”

Rolling my eyes, I stride over to Angela’s bedside. My gaze lands on the doll she had thrown, its ceramic body shattered on the floor, pieces scattered like broken teeth, remnants of innocence lost.

I crouch down, carefully gathering the fragments. Its face remains eerily intact, forever frozen in that grotesque calmness that mocks me. With a swift motion, I press the doll’s face into Angela’s palm, wrapping her fingers around it, unwilling to let go.

“My mother is not your puppet or doll,” I hiss, my voice low and venomous. “You are nothing but a hollow ceramic vessel, clinging desperately to a man who wouldn’t stay faithful even if his life depended on it. Disgusting!”

A wave of satisfaction washes over me as her face drains of color, her lips quivering. For a fleeting moment, I relish the power I wield over her. I finally release my grip, allowing the broken doll to tumble onto her sheets.

Without sparing another glance, I turn on my heel and stride out of the ward, my heart pounding in rhythm with my disdain.

Reyna and Angela… they are pitifully useless, both of them. Still clawing at me, still scheming, even after everything that has transpired. Lucien Marino, the coward I once called my father, is long gone, yet they persist in their futile attempts to drag me down into their mire.

As I step outside the hospital, the cut on my hand begins to throb, a sharp reminder of the chaos inside. Blood trickles across my palm, but I wipe it carelessly against my dress, muttering a soft curse at the stain. I will deal with it later; right now, my focus is on escaping this nightmare.

Approaching my car, I catch sight of movement at the entrance. Cassian stands there, waiting for me, a shadow I can’t shake off.

“Get lost,” I snap, refusing to look at him.

“Gemma, stop being stubborn. Come with me, and let’s get that bandaged,” he implores, concern lacing his voice.

I ignore him, gripping the door handle of my Porsche and yanking it open. But he is quick to react, blocking my way and slamming the door shut with a metallic thud that makes me flinch.

“Are you being childish or what? You think breaking my car is going to solve anything?” I retort, exasperation bubbling to the surface.

His jaw tightens, determination etched on his face. “I’m not letting you drive off like this. Come get it bandaged with me first.”

We engage in a silent battle of wills, me pulling the handle and him shoving it shut. Passersby glance our way, some whispering, and I can feel the heat of humiliation creeping up my neck.

Finally, I jerk free and step onto the road, desperate to shake him off. The pedestrian light is red, cars humming impatiently, but I don’t care.

“Gemma!” he calls, urgency lacing his tone as he strides after me.

Just as I think I’ve escaped, a motorcycle bursts through the traffic, its engine roaring like a beast unleashed. I freeze, realizing too late that I’m standing directly in its path.

Cassian’s reaction is instinctive. Without a moment’s hesitation, he lunges forward, large hands gripping my shoulders and shoving me out of harm’s way.

I stumble, nearly losing my balance, and just as I regain my footing, the sickening thud of metal colliding with flesh echoes in the air. Cassian’s body strikes the utility pole, and the world around us falls into a hushed silence.

The rider steadies himself, curses spilling from his lips as he speeds off, leaving chaos in his wake.

“Oh no, is he okay?” someone from the crowd cries out, panic threading through their voice.

“Did you see that? He hit his head!” another voice chimes in, filled with alarm.

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